“Don’t move till near morning,” said one of them cautiously. “The police may have been warned, and we will need to be wide awake. Wait till the milk-wagons and market-wagons are on the street.”
“All right. Joe can play butcher,” was the reply.
“I will be off home now,” said the first speaker, “and leave you two to finish the job.”
The door was closed behind him as he left the store and carefully made his way along the street, seeking the deepest shadows, and keeping in close to the houses.
He stepped out more boldly after he had reached a main street. Late as the hour was, the street was not quite deserted. A few people were moving.
One of these, in fact, was moving quite closely behind the burglar, and seemed to be following him.
The latter was utterly surprised when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice sounded in his ear:
“You are my prisoner.”
“What does this mean?” he cried, turning round in great indignation. “Who are you that dare molest a quiet traveler on the streets?”
“Save all that,” said the other. “I know what I am doing, and am going to put you in safe keeping for to-night.”